I need some good words ****** into me

or

I need to find the right lines

to right me.



traveling the tides of time

on the backs of

Bradford blossoms,



the stench of carrion nostalgia-

I heard it was the strongest

of our longings-



to become such as fossils,

to relive what were.



a million reasons to be

distracted.



a million reasons to

spread my legs-



a million reasons for the

birds to sing-



in which I cannot see

but it churns the tides anyway,



learning to love the

right way, after

being fostered by drunk brutals

or father’s in their own right-



I’ve left that decade

in a grave of lines,



lines I’ve scribed

and lines left unearthed.